Consequences
by bassgoddess
Summary: Imagine the trio had been brought to Malfoy Manor in a less timely manner. What happens to Hermione and the consequences that arise. Non-HP compliant. Let me know if there are glaring problems as I am not a writer! Also please note dub/con and mature situations, please do not read if you are uncomfortable with either. Hermione is an adult, 18 and the great J.K. Rowling owns all ch
1. Chapter 1

**CONSEQUENCES**

 _Ok so this is non story compliant. Picks up during snatchers chase scene. You have to imagine they couldn't apparate or use some other means to get to Malfoy Manor. And you have to imagine its a pretty misogynistic society, which I kind of feel is relevant today. I don't remember so much of my Potter reading, it's been awhile, so if anyone is super out of character or in the wrong place etc please let me know._

"Hello beautiful," he said, his lean body resting against a tree. Hermione was taken aback and her blood cooled. It was the same man from the forest; the man with the strange red streak in his hair. He wore an armband, signifying he was a Snatcher. He was wearing her scarf and playing with the edges. Her scarf that she had left for Ron.

'Oh Godric,' she thought. 'Please, please don't let this be how it ends.'

She looked around for Harry and Ron and noticed more men coming out from behind trees and brush when the leader spoke again.

"Well don't stand about…..snatch 'em!"

And the hunt was on. She ran faster than she had her entire life. She stumbled over branches and impressions in the ground but kept on, as fast as her legs could carry her. And when she couldn't breathe, she ran even faster.

Trees were being hit with curses and hexes, crumbling around them like paper dolls.

They were gaining on them and as Hermione approached a clearing she did the only thing she could. Turned and hexed her friend.

The Snatchers were upon them with their questions and it was obvious that they didn't believe them.

Harry was not Stan Shunpike, and after Hermione gave her false name the strange man with the streak in his hair pulled her to him by the hair and inhaled. It make her cringe and her insides catch.

After being sniffed and groped and seeing the boys roughly handled and punched, her hair stood on end when she heard the leader say, "Change of plan. We're not taking this lot to the Ministry."

"What should we do, boss?," one of the men asked plaintively, collecting the Trio's wands.

"You three watch the boys," he started, his gaze going back to Hermione. "This one goes in my tent."

"NO!," she screamed and the boys echoed her sentiment as she heard "If you touch her I'll kill you," amongst other empty threats.

The Snatcher who wore the mask dragged her through the forest for about half a mile when they came upon what must be the makeshift campsite. Hermione had tried to stamp his feet and run but she was given some very painful yanks to her hair in return, and decided to abandon that course of action. She would find another way.

The man with the mask reached the tent and said, "Inside."

She looked at him for a moment before he used all of his weight to unceremoniously push her through the door. She yelped.

He muttered something behind her, some sort of spell and she knew it would be impossible to leave the tent's confines.

The man walked away and she started screaming.

"HELP!….PLEASE!….RON!," she yelled to no end.

After her voice was hoarse and she had lost her resolve she sat on the rug floor. Surveying the room, she noted a cot and a table with two chairs were the only real furniture. And where was the toilet?

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard someone behind her, at the tent entrance.

"There you are, my lovely."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione's tongue darted out to wet her top lip which had become unbearably dry when she saw him at the door of the tent.

"No," she said softly, her hands in front of her, as he took a step inside the small tent.

He looked at her and smirked, and she knew in an instant why she was there. Perhaps she'd known for awhile. Her rational mind had tried to find a way out but was completely unable.

"So….your name ent Penelope, am I right?," he started, his voice no more than a whisper, his deliberate steps towards her becoming more menacing.

"I….I don't know what you're talking about," she said her hands still in front of her as she looked behind her before moving away from him.

He stopped.

"Yes you do."

Hermione took a breath in as she felt tears prick the corner of her eyes. "I—I …..," she started, and took a step back only to realize that she had backed completely into the table and there was nowhere else to go.

The terrible smirk grew larger as he raised his eyebrows and continued towards her, a few feet away. "Yes, my lovely….I know that is Harry Potter, which makes you, indeed, Miss Granger."

She didn't have time to respond, for he was not a foot from her and reached over her shoulder. She jerked her head in response, but he had already caught a lock of her hair and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply.

It was an extremely unsettling motion, and Hermione let out a whimper. He edged closer and chuckled, his face near her neck, taking another deep breath of her hair.

"You smell of vanilla," he said as she squirmed and let out a choked sob.

"Please-," she started, her hands now on his chest as he inched ever closer.

The hair still in his hands, his face still near her neck he turned to her ear. She could feel his hot breath for a few seconds, ghosting the shell of her earlobe and she shuddered, her stomach lurching.

"You're going to be my favourite."

He said it directly into her ear, his voice no more than a whisper. One tear fell from her eyes, then two. Every nerve was on end, and gooseflesh arose everywhere. Her entire skin felt too small and on fire.

His hands slowly went to her forearms and traced up them slowly.

She was breathing erratically, her body in fight or flight response, tight like a harp string, waiting for his next move. She didn't have to wait long.

He spun her so her back was to him and wrenched the jacket from her shoulders all in a single motion.

"NO!," she screamed, but he had brought his gloved hand up to cover her mouth.

He was directly behind her and he spoke into her ear quietly again.

"I would really hate to have to cast a silencing charm on you."

She struggled against him as his arm snaked its way around her waist. She almost bit into his hand when he started speaking again.

"Now, can I trust that if I move my hand you won't scream? Gives me quite a headache. Don't want to be forced to shut you up."

She seemed to consider this for a moment, still faced away from him, teeth dragging into the glove, and then he felt her lips close over her teeth and she shook her head against his hand, signaling she would be quiet.

"That's better," he said, his mouth still unsettlingly close to her ear. "See?," he said as he pushed her with his arm, making her turn towards him.

"Now….my lovely," he said, his eyes traveling downwards to her chest, "we can do this the easy way….or the hard way."


	3. Chapter 3

The implication hung open, stretched in the very air between them. All of a sudden she was aware of so many contrasting things; the smell of firewhiskey, the warmth of his body, the deadness of his eyes. She brought her arms up slowly, instinctively, hiding her chest from his overt gaze and backed away from him, the table cutting painfully into her lower back.

'The easy way or that hard way? Surely he can't mean-,' her mind screamed as she willed her body to move. She was frozen in place, frozen by the cold in his eyes that seemed to bore through hers.

He took a step back from her, freeing her from being pinned between him and the table. His eyes travelled downwards once more and he reached into his right jacket pocket. Her eyes widened; she had no idea what to think, even if she could breathe. Was he pulling out a weapon? She relaxed when she saw him remove a cigarette. Then his other hand went into his left pocket and produced a small metal lighter.

"Take it off," he said, bringing one hand over the other to hold the lighter and flick it, lighting the cigarette in a single motion.

Hermione's heart thudded in her ears.

"T-take what off?," she started, pretending to be stupid. He looked up from her and took a drag, releasing the cigarette smoke with a kind of smirk as he looked her body up and down. He gestured with the cigarette.

"All of it."

"N—no…..," she said her voice trailing off.

She saw his jaw tighten and then release. She knew he was angry. She saw it flash across his eyes. Her defiance angered him.

He took another drag and then, in a quick motion put it out directly on the tabletop behind her.

"I don't think you heard me right, girl. You and me, one way or the other. 's been a long time out in these woods."

"I—I…," she started, panicking as he shifted his weight, bringing him closer to her again.

He leaned in towards her ear again and his hot breath prickled the tiny hairs on the outer shell. "I'd really hate to have to use magic on you."

She tried to move her head but all that succeeded in doing was bringing her lips millimeters from his.

"No….please…no…..," she whispered, the pounding of her heart making her tremble to it's rhythm.

He shifted his weight back and away from her abruptly.

"Suit yourself," he said and sauntered to the tent flap. He glanced at her over his shoulder and then exited.

Hermione's breath left her lungs in a great _whoosh_. She reached a hand onto the table to steady herself. How close she had come. Surely he wouldn't let her go?

She chewed on her bottom lip as she wondered where he had gone. She realized something, most likely terrible, was about to happen when she heard muffled yelling from the other side of the flap. Gingerly, she crept over the the tent flap.

He was back then, in an instant, grabbing her by her arm painfully and dragging her over to Ron who was being held by the ginger snatcher.

"Ron!, she screamed, staring at him, trying with all her might to wrench herself free from her captor. But Scabior held her fast.

"Hermione, you have to promise you won't do whatever he says!," Ron said, earning him a punch to the gut. Hermione could already see his left eye blackening from some other attack.

"Are you alright?! Where's Harry?!," she cried frantically, still struggling.

"I'm fine! I will get you out of here I pr-," Ron started, cut off by another savage blow.

"Since you won't cooperate with me, boyfriend gets his," Scabior said, yelling over the two of them. Still holding Hermione, now by her wrist with a bruising grasp, he reached for his holster and removed his wand.

Hermione clawed at him frantically, but to no avail, for he pointed his wand directly at Ron and muttered, "Crucio!"

Instantly Ron was doubled over, dropped to his knees by the force of the curse. Hermione started crying and screaming at Scabior as Ron writhed about in pain, screaming for help, begging for it to stop.

Scabior stopped for a moment, giving Hermione a hard yank on the wrist. "It's your choice, lovely," he said and she looked at him through tear stained eyes. She let out a choked sob, as he turned his attention back to Ron.

"DON'T DO IT HERMIONE!," he screamed before Scabior pointed his wand at him again and spoke deliberately.

"Crucio!"

"NO PLEASE!," Hermione screamed at him, but he was focused on his aim on Ron.

"PLEASE!," she screamed again shaking her wrist getting his attention.

"Please," she said again, her voice unsteady from the sobs. "I'll do whatever you want. Just please stop."

Scabior looked at Ron and tipped his wand up, breaking the spell. He nodded to the ginger haired snatcher who had been in charge of Ron and then Ron was being dragged across the ground.

"Hermione….no….," his voice was quiet as he struggled to remain conscious.

"Ron…..Ron…..please be alright…please-," but she was cut off by Scabior who was ushering her away quickly.

He held the tent flap open for her and followed immediately behind. She could feel the heat from his body directly behind her, far too close for her comfort.

She took a deep breath but did not turn to look at him. She couldn't bear it. Scabior slowly walked until he was standing directly in front of her.

"Now," he spoke softly and calmly. His eyes dropped to her chest once more and he cocked his head to the side.

"Take it off."


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione seemed to consider this for a moment. She was all out of options. Her logical mind had abandoned her and instincts had taken over. But she was able to summon some courage and decided to try to leverage what he wanted for what she wanted. He was standing by the tent flap, the wind that seeped around one of the edges blowing the tendrils of his hair that had loosened around his face making him appear even more mad and dangerous than he already seemed. His jaw was set in a firm line.

"I eat gonna ask you twice, girl," he said gruffly and slowly.

Hermione's tongue darted out to wet her dry lips; a movement that did not go unnoticed by him. Maybe she could distract him, get him to talk, get his mind off of this.

Her voice was dry and hoarse when she spoke next. She had to repeat the first word because it was barely audible.

"Why….," she cleared her throat. "Why do you need me to cooperate? I mean….surely you are a wizard who knows all the requisite spells…," her voice trailed off as he took a step closer to her. Two more steps and he'd be right in front of her.

"Well, my lovely, if you must know I don't actually fancy holding down a screaming girl whilst trying to have my way with her. Much better if she's willing…..or sommat."

Her breath left her lungs in a _whoosh_. How many times had he done just this….cornered some innocent girl and…..? How many other girls were there? Did he not abide by the rules of war nor pay any mind for common decency?

But of course the answer was apparent. He was a snatcher; the lowest of the low, really. A rogue offshoot of the Dark Lord's subjects. She had heard stories of the particular deviations that these sorts of men enjoyed. Flaunting and using their power to suit their own purpose.

 _How many?_

 _Stop thinking! Start talking, Hermione. Move your mouth. Keep him busy. Keep him thinking, instead of…._

"I am presuming then…since you seem to be….a _gentleman_ ….," her voice caught and her tongue tripped over the word and the lie was so completely obvious in her delivery, "….that you would possibly grant me something in return for….my….my compliance."

He seemed amused by this and smirked at her. "You, my dear, are hardly in the position to be making any requests."

"Just the same….would you swear you will not hurt Harry or Ron while they are in your possession?"

Scabior licked his lips and the coldness overtook his eyes. He regarded this one, this doe eyed girl with the wild hair. He had to admire her impudence. And spirit.

"Yes. But you are trying my patience. Get on with it."

He turned away from her to secure the errant end of tent flap and her stomach dropped.

 _Oh Godric, it's happening._

 _It's_ _going to happen._

 _That thing. That thing I've wondered about and dreaded and…_

She kept her eyes trained on him as he slowly walked around the edge of the tent, approaching his bed. He looked to her like a lion stalking his prey. He moved with a lithe grace befitting someone of a much higher station. Hermione chided herself for the thought.

 _Who cares?_

 _Who cares who he is._

 _Who cares what he does._

 _You can do this. You can take the power back for yourself._

 _Everyone is depending on you._

And then she thought of Ron. He would hate her. He wouldn't understand. He would be so horribly disgusted with her and—

 _No!_

Hermione cut off her own thoughts. Scabior was regarding her almost quizzically. Probably wondering what she was thinking about.

 _Ron won't hate you. He is kind and good. He will understand. It's not your fault. It's not even your choice…_

Her thoughts were immediately interrupted by Scabior pushing her very deliberately and very roughly into the wall of the tent. He grabbed her and held her tight around the waist as she let out a gasp, the tent wall cutting into her bottom.

"I'm done with waiting," he said his voice gravelly, ragged. He grabbed her right hand and thrust it to the front of his plaid trousers, holding it against the large bulge that was now there. She tried to pull her hand away quickly, like it had touched fire, but he held her by the wrist, painfully now.

She let out a choked sob, "please-," she started, but he paid no mind and his lips went to the base or her neck where it met her shoulder. He planted a single kiss there before whispering against her skin, "tell you what….if it makes you more…. _agreeable_ …..you can even pick the position you like best." He inhaled deeply as she instinctively shuddered away from him.

"I…I….," she started, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. But she wouldn't let them fall. Her hand felt on fire, being held against his body so intimately and she was so unsure of how to proceed. She kept struggling, though, knowing she couldn't give up yet.

He thrust his hips at her and released her wrist, and she slammed it back to her side, her cheeks brightening at his lewd manipulation of it. She turned her head away from him, as far as possible which served only to give him better access to her neck which he continued to kiss and suckle.

"I…don't…know," she spoke away from him, and he thrust his hips against hers a second time, this time kicking her leg so her legs fell open in a V and he between them.

"Everyone's got a favorite," he said against her neck, inhaling deeply again. She brought her hands up to his shoulders and pushed on him, but he resisted, crashing his body into hers again.

"I don't know because….because….I haven't …ever…done…it," she said each word with great deliberation, struggling to get her face away from his.

He stilled, but only for a moment. He let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan. He thought there was something different about this one. About that smell….

He inhaled again as she struggled against him.

And then he shocked them both and took a step back.

He knew the smell. He knew it. He knew now. He knew why she was special.

And why she must be his.


	5. Chapter 5

Scabior unconsciously licked his lips, causing Hermione to back away from him. He removed his wand from his holster. For a moment she was terrified he was going to point it at her. Instead he turned and softly said, "Muffliato."

"No," she whispered, holding out a hand, palm open to stop him if he tried to approach again.

"Don't want anyone hearing anything and interrupting," he clarified, as if she needed clarification.

Almost on cue, she heard his name being called. He stilled, looking directly at her like a lion would look at his prey.

Another call for him.

His right hand came up to slowly trail across the side of her face. She turned away.

A third call. This time louder. His head turned from her towards the flap. He made to move towards it, then turned and cornered her once again.

"Scabior!," she heard again; this time more insistent.

He turned again but grabbed her by the wrist and spoke to her without breaking eye contact.

"This ent over," he said, his voice low. It was almost like a growl. She turned her head as he pushed his weight against her, disgusted by him, trembling all over and wishing her friends could help her.

More yells for the leader.

He turned on his heel and went outside to see what it was. Hermione let out an exhausted sigh of relief. She had to steady herself, she was so lightheaded. Her body had been in fight or flight response for awhile now. Her legs seemed frozen in place and she had trouble catching her breath.

 _Calm down_ , she told herself.

 _You're alright. You are doing fine. You are going to pull it together like you always do and get out of here as quickly as possible._

She regarded the room around her. Surely he had warded it?

 _You can figure this out. You are the brightest witch of your age. You can do this._

 _But how?_ , she thought as she turned and viewed the tent. Her prison.

 _How to escape?_

Hermione was so entranced with the idea of escape she didn't notice a presence behind her until she heard his low breathing. Something about it sounded….different….

Different from Scabior….

Suddenly two arms grabbed her roughly and spun her around.

 _Oh Godric_ -, she thought, horrified as she looked at her captor.

The shuddering began then, from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair. Tears fell freely as one of his hands wrenched itself into her hair painfully and used it as leverage to throw her across the tent.

 _Oh Godric, no!_ was the last thought she had before her world went white from the force of being thrown across the room. It was like the pain had short circuited her brain.

That and the fact that she was staring straight into the yellowing eyes of none other than Greyback.

* * *

 _Am I dreaming?_

 _Am I…..dead?_

 _I don't remember what I was doing_

 _I remember Ron…..Harry….._

 _Get up…..you need to get up….._

 _Hermione…get up!_

Hermione jerked awake. She heard voices. Her vision slowly returned, blurry at the edges, but she realized she was still in the tent. The day's events came back to her in a rush. There were two voices, a lower one that was more like a growl, and a higher one that she vaguely recognized but was unable to place.

 _Oh Godric, I'm still here…._

 _With….him…_

Then the voices turned to shouts.

Hermione looked up and she saw her captor, Scabior, and the wolf-man, Greyback arguing. She couldn't tell what they were saying but they both looked agitated.

 _Get up….._

 _Get moving…._

 _Try to get out of here….._

She rolled over onto her stomach and was about to pull herself across the floor when Greyback's head snapped around and turned towards her. His yellow eyes fixed on her as they narrowed. His lips curled back revealing his teeth.

Immediately, she moved to a crouching position and backed up on all fours.

He was coming for her, his eyes fiery now. He moved so quickly….

 _Get up!_

 _Go!_

 _Run!_

She told herself all these things but her body was frozen in place. There were thoughts….thoughts of her parents, of Harry, of Ron, Ginny, then brief flashes of her life. Her dress at the Yule Ball. Dancing with Harry in the tent. Looking into Ron's eyes back at Hogwarts wondering if she should talk to him….

Hermione seemed to realize that this was most likely the end of her life. She felt tears at the corners of her eyes as he moved towards her, only a few steps away.

 _It's over…._

 _It's done…._

 _Put your head down…. don't look…..don't watch…_

 _You did well._

She obeyed her thoughts and put her head in her hands, waiting for the end that would surely follow. But the attack never came for it was then that she heard his voice. Her captor.

"Stupefy!," Scabior screamed and she saw the bright flash of magic that momentarily stunned the wolf-man.

She had raised her head from her arms in time to see the magic blow. Then Greyback recovered quickly and she read panic on Scabior's face as Greyback lunged at him, knocking him to the ground, his wand flying several meters from him, equal distance between him and where Hermione was.

 _His wand!_

 _I can steal his wand!_

 _I can get out of here!_

Hermione moved quickly, trying to crawl the distance to the wand. She heard a lot of grunting and watched them tussle on the ground, rolling over each other. It was terrifying. They were really having it out. Then she saw Greyback use the long nails on his hand to rip through the leather of Scabior's jacket directly into the flesh of his right shoulder. Scabior let out a shriek that was almost inhuman as she saw blood, and a lot of it, pool beneath him.

He let out noises almost like cries and the werewolf was on top of him, pressing him into the floor of the tent. And still he fought valiantly, clawing wildly at the much larger opponent on top of him. He grabbed Greyback's wrists and fought him from below; oblivious to the fact he was in the losing position. Greyback put his full weight on him, pressing one hand into his windpipe, the other onto his nearly destroyed shoulder, making him cry out.

"All for a fucking mudblood. I just wanted to have a little fun. What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, Scabior!?"

"She's mine," he replied, his voice no more than a whisper. He choked, gasping for air as the werewolf pulled him up by his jacket.

"She's mine now!," he snarled directly into his face before shoving him, shoulder first into the floor again. Scabior let out another cry.

It was an awful sound. It was like an animal being eaten. It stopped Hermione dead in her tracks and made her look to the struggling man.

He shrieked and cursed again, desperately trying to get the wolf-man off his shoulder, arms flailing wildly.

Hermione had reached the wand without Greyback noticing, but as she picked it up into her trembling hand, she knew she could not just leave this.

 _Go._

 _Just go._

 _You owe him nothing!_

 _You need to get out of there!_

 _Wait!_

 _He protected you!_

 _From him! He did!_

 _He protected you because he wants you for himself._

 _No….don't think….Go!_

Her mind warred with itself for a moment. And then, all the noise inside her head stopped and she did what she thought was right. And it happened almost instinctively, with very little debate.

She came up silently behind Greyback with the wand, trying to get Scabior's attention. She was shaking; any moment he could turn around and….

 _Stop!_

 _Scabior look at me!_

He seemed to read her mind for his eyes opened for a moment before Greyback stepped on his shoulder again, grinding him into the floor. Another scream.

His eyes caught hers just then and she raised the wand. He seemed to understand what she was about to do and was prepared when she suddenly lunged at him and placed the wand directly into his left hand. In an instant he had flipped himself over and pointed the wand directly at Greyback.

"Petrificus Totalus!," Scabior cried and all of a sudden the wolf-man stilled, before keeling over on his side, like a giant block of wood.

Scabior let out a few shaky breaths before collapsing from his knees to the floor. He saw the massive amounts of blood beneath himself and thought, ' _how strange_ ', before his eyes closed and he was enveloped by a feeling of serene warmth.


End file.
